


Chase

by Llama_Goddess



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anyway I hope hell is nice when I get there, Don't do this to the gal you like, F/M, Go sit in the corner and think about what you did, HT!Sans I hate you, I beg you, I can't help but try to redeem him, I mean it, I suck at writing bad people, IMPLIED NON-CON OKAY, Mom don't find this please, OKaY maybe he has a few redeeming qualities, One or two, Possessive Sans, READER IS OVER 18 I'M NOT DOING ANY OF THAT CREEPY SHIT, Reader Is Not Frisk, SONAMYLUFFER1011 THIS IS YOUR FAULT, Smol children don't read this, There's a reason she's running away, This is not what I usually do, Usually I'm all 'possessiveness is bad' and shit like that, fellas she'll leave you in a heartbeat, i cry, please, plz don't hate me, possessiveness is not coolio, reader is female, then I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 13:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama_Goddess/pseuds/Llama_Goddess
Summary: I WROTE THIS FOR SONAMYLUFFER AND THIS IS PROBABLY THE LAST TIME I'LL EVER WRITE THIS KIND OF SHITDisclaimer: Possessiveness is not cool, y'all.





	1. Chase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sonamyluffer101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonamyluffer101/gifts).



> I WROTE THIS FOR SONAMYLUFFER AND THIS IS PROBABLY THE LAST TIME I'LL EVER WRITE THIS KIND OF SHIT
> 
> Disclaimer: Possessiveness is not cool, y'all.

You could hear him, his cruel laughter echoing throughout the cold, dead woods. He wasn’t even angry that you’d gotten away. That you’d squeezed your starved body through the impossibly tiny window in the kitchen- the only one he’d forgotten to lock. That you’d waded through snow that came up to your knees, that you’d made it even into the forest.  
  


He didn’t care. He laughed, deep baritone dripping with madness, carrying across the town of Snowdin and ringing in your ears. No, he didn’t care that you made it out the house.  
  


__ He knew he’d find you anyway.  
  


You sobbed thickly through your freezing tears, trying to move faster between the bleak trees, branches catching on your clothes and in your hair. Thorns sliced your legs through the fabric of your jeans and you stumbled, crying out in pain, feet already numb.  
  


_ You were going to die here _ .   
  


The realisation hit you so suddenly that you leant on a tree for support, clapping a hand over your mouth and sobbing again. You were going to die here, in this cold, dead landscape, forever hunted by a manic skeleton who refused to let you out of his house. Refused to hurt you, but also refused to leave you alone, only staring at you with that single, burning eye, and...  
  


You shuddered, remembering the feeling of his hands dragging over your skin. His burning tongue lapping at your neck, your screams as he dug his fangs into the soft flesh. The scarred, crudely bandaged bite on your shoulder tingling in a... not entirely unpleasant way, reminding you of his mark. Reminding you that as far as he was concerned... he  _ owned _ you.  
  


__ You didn't have to be a monster to know what that meant.  
  


You didn't know what he planned to do with you. He'd never gone further than intimate touching, but you doubted it would stay that way for long. You weren't going to sit there and be his fucktoy- you'd rather die of exposure here in the dark, dank forest than ever submit to  _him_.  
  


_Footsteps_.

  
You took a deep breath and dropped to the ground, huddled with your back against the thick trunk of the tree, ignoring the way the thorns on the ground stabbed into you on all sides. You stifled your cries and held your breath.

  
"... heheh. i know you're here." His voice was a low growl, but laced with the amusement of a predator playing with it's prey. You put your hand over your mouth again to stop yourself from screaming at how close he was. He must only be a few trees away!

  
"you know... your blood smells just as good as it tastes..." He noisily licked his teeth, deep chuckle making your insides freeze with fear. That, and sitting in the snow was going to give you hypothermia. "i wonder... how many more marks can i put on that pretty little body of yours? it looked so good on your skin this morning... all scarred and red..."   


  
_He's trying to make you give yourself away_. You thought, a sudden burst of hope blooming in your chest.  _He... he might not actually know where you are! He might be taunting you, in the hopes that you reveal your location!_

  
"i'm pretty mad at you for running away like that, baby girl... but..."

  
The bite on your shoulder fizzled with magic, sending a warm shock to the rest of your body. It was a good thing you had your hand over your mouth, or you would've moaned aloud. Instantly, you curled in on yourself tighter

  
"... since you and i are so  _close_..." The snow crunched under his boots, closer and closer to the tree you were hiding behind. The dull 'shhh' of his axe dragging across the ground made you want to get up and run _now_. "i'll be willing to forgive. just this once. heh... if you run away again, i might have to _punish_ you..."

_  
No, no no no no no..._ Your shoulders were trembling, a cold sweat breaking out all over your body. He can't. He can't know. How did he find you in this huge forest!? How did he-

  
Your panicked eyes settled on a particularly large thorn by your leg, glistening red with droplets of your blood. It dripped onto the snow, leaving a perfectly round spot of crimson, like a dash of red ink on a white canvas. A horrible realisation dawned on you, making new, fresher tears stream down your sore face.  


  
_He can smell your blood_.  _He can smell your sweat, your tears..._

  
Your chest began heaving, panic and terror gripping you.  


  
_You'll never get away, he'll always be able to track you down_...

  
"i hope you understand that i'm doing this for your own good." His voice, usually so thick with madness and predatory glee, began to soften into something more like... Concern...? 

  
... Maybe even... _R_ _egret_? 

  
"if i let you go, baby... you'll die. you'll be slaughtered and eaten without a second glance, and i can't have that. i'll kill _anyone_ that touches you. i can keep you safe, and warm..." 

  
He chuckled again, mania slipping back into his tone. "... _very_ warm..."

  
His footsteps came so close that they were practically on top of you, and your whole body was shaking with unrestrained terror.  _Please!_

  
"you don't have to be so scared of me, baby girl..." He whispered, and you were so close that you could hear it. You could hear the sadness that leaked into his murmur, the regret and pain he was showing you. "... i promise... you'll be happy with me..."

  
A tiny whimper made it past your hand, and you knew he'd heard it. You knew he was only waiting for you to reveal yourself, giving you a chance to go with it. Giving you a chance to trust him. Giving you a chance to  _give in to him_.

  
...

  
You remained curled where you were, partially because you couldn't give in to him like that, and partially because your legs were so numb you wouldn't be able to walk anyway. By now, you weren't even bothering to mask your pathetic sobs, entire body lurching. You could barely breathe, the cold air stinging your lungs every time you managed to heave in.  


  
... He sighed. You couldn't see him through your hot tears, but you felt his arms slip around you- one under your knees and the other supporting your back. You screamed weakly, kicking your legs, but his hold was absolute.

  
You felt his teeth press against your forehead in a pseudo-kiss as he stood up, carrying you like a limp doll. 

  
"no matter how far you run," his words were a dangerous, primal growl, grip firm and possessive. "no matter how many walls you build to keep me out, no matter how safe you think you might be..."

  
You opened your eyes, staring with horror into the single, engorged, intense red iris that stared back, burning with obsessive desire.

  
He grinned.

  
"  **i ' l l _a l w a y s_   f i n d   y o u **. "


	2. Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY I KNOW I SAID NO MORE BUT I HAD AN IDEA AND I JUST HAD TO WRITE IT DOWN. DON'T JUDGE ME, FUCK OFF
> 
> I still hate Horror Sans tho
> 
> *muttering angrily* fuckin' bitchass...

Everything was hot.

  
You were gasping, clawing, sweating... trapped in a feverish nightmare of spiralling sickness. Someone was trying to wrap a blanket around you but you kept kicking it back off again, head spinning and vision swirling, sweat beading all over your body and gluing your already dirty clothes to your skin.

  
Where... where were you!? There were voices... voices you recognised... one that was loud but gentle, that made you relax, if only a little. One that'd spared you when you could've easily fed him for days. Little eyes but a big heart. Sunshine and spaghetti, orange and white. Sweet and caring, your only friend in this hellscape of hunger and cold... always arguing in your favour, voice forever raised but not  _truly_ raised...

  
And... the  _other_ voice.

  
Cold and hard as ice, darker and more foreboding than gathering storm clouds, madder than howling winds and more powerful than a vicious crack of lighting that sets the sky ablaze. Watching with a single swirling eye, waiting, always grinning, always in the shadows until night fell. And when night  _did_ fall... and the loud caring voice was no longer there to protect you... the veritable storm of a monster would silently slip into your room, into your  _bed_ , slow and gentle hands more terrifying than any furious strike or roar. Stroking a thumb over your stomach, lightly kneading the flesh around your hips, tracing circles along your chest and throat, or burying it's face in the back of your head, inhaling deeply and growling. No, the storm wouldn't break. There was no lightning or screaming winds or pelting hail. Only distant rumbling and careful caresses, assuring you that the storm was not here, but if it wanted to be... it would break you instantly.

  
You'd learnt very quickly that begging did nothing to deter the cold voice. In fact, it only seemed to make the constant grin it wore get that much wider. It did as it pleased, when it pleased. If it wanted to touch you, it touched you. If it wanted to stand at the end of your bed and watch you sleep, it stood at the end of your bed and watched you sleep. If it wanted to simply lie next to you and stare, stare all night long, that's what it did.

  
Vague memories of being chased through a dark forest began to cloud your feverish mind like a nightmare left unheeded, and you started to scream, nausea and heat making you weak.

  
A hand gripped your shoulder and all you could see was the vicious, glowing red of  _his_ eye, staring down at you. You screamed louder, trying to fight yourself free, panic building. You had to keep running, you couldn't let him get you...  _no!_

   
"sh-she won't calm down!" His voice was scared and strained, but in your hallucinatory state you could only hear the growls and threats and promises of pain that had never truly left his lips, but you were convinced were waiting, just  _waiting_ to be spoken.

  
"BROTHER, I THINK SHE'S FRIGHTENED OF YOU! LET GO OF HER, YOU'RE MAKING IT WORSE!"

  
_That voice!_

  
As commanded, the tense hand left your shoulder, and gentle ones took your face and turned your swimming vision toward your towering friend. You sobbed openly in relief, and weakly held your arms out to him. He was like a beam of sunshine, protecting you from the silent storm that only dared to gather when he was gone.

  
You never knew how truly safe and comforting a hug could be until that moment, clinging onto him and blocking everything else out ("WHY IS HER SKIN SO HOT?" "i dunno, bro, might be a human fever."), finally,  _finally_ feeling just the  _tiniest_ bit safe in this hopeless, hungry death trap.

  
The rest of the night was a hazy cloud of vomit, sweat, and forcefully swallowing a bitter tasting drink that made your head spin less. The voices were talking, questioning, concerned, then big arms belonging to the orange voice were taking you up some stairs and into a cool room that felt nice as you moved, because the air brushed past your tear tracks and made them feel all cold and tingly.

  
You gripped on tightly and snuggled your head into his shoulder, not hearing the shaky, jealous intake of breath a few steps behind you. You felt so safe, for once, being held and comforted like a baby. You'd been so stripped of any comforting physical affection- the only affection you'd been getting these past weeks was forced on you by the cold voice.

  
And then, you were wrapped up safely in a warm blanket, the kind voice telling you that you were going to be alright, and that the 'GREAT PAPYRUS' would make sure you were properly taken care of. He promised that, after his royal guard training, he'd purchase some books on human health and make you 'GOOD AS NEW'.

  
You fell asleep to his loud rambling, dreaming of royal guards in full armour eating never-ending plates of spaghetti.

* * *

 

When you awoke, it was cold.

Not extremely so, just... a gentle chill was in the air, and you shuddered, blinking hard at the headache that had awoken you in the first place. Your clothes were slightly damp at the armpits and stank of sweat and vomit- ugh, did you get a fever? You put a hand on your forehead, trying to recall memories. Sans carrying you back through a blizzard, Papyrus questioning why you were sneezing... you decided to take a small nap on the sofa when both the guys were in different rooms... and then...?

"why _him_?"

You startled at the sudden vicious growl, but before you could even sit up to see where Sans was, his engorged red eye was hovering inches above your face, wide and desperate and _angry_. Before you could scream for Papyrus he was on top of you, a boney hand slapped over your mouth that stank faintly of salt and copper.

  
You immediately started to _panic_. You'd never seen him angry at you before, and you realised the smell on his hand was  _blood_ , which made your stomach turn. Oh God, what if he was bored of just touching you? What if he... he...

  
"why  ** _him_**!?" He repeated, chest heaving, voice cracking, and you sobbed against his hand. "what did _i_ ever do to you!? i've never hurt you, i've never even raised my fucking _voice_ at you, all i've ever done is protect you and feed you, and you won't even look me in the goddam eye! he... he tried to fucking  _kill_ you and _eat your body_ , and you're clinging to him like... like he...! just _stop being scared of me_!" 

  
He froze for a few moments after shouting in your face, observing your sobbing form, then his eyesockets crinkled at the corners, a mad giggle bubbling inside his chest and breaking free. 

  
"is  _that_ what i should do?" He grinned so widely you were sure his skull was going to split. "threaten to kill you and feed you to pap? make you walk through fields covered in bear traps? force you to dodge my attacks until you pass out bleeding in the snow, like he did to you!? wouldn't that be a real sweet  _bonding_ moment for the two of us!?" The more he spoke, the angrier he became, the sheer polarity of his emotions serving as proof of his unstableness, and you squeezed your eyes shut, turning your head to the side and preparing yourself for a painful strike. This guy was insane, there was no way he wouldn't kill you now.  
  


...

  
"heheh, no, it's fine, i get it." He started chuckling again, removing his hand from your mouth. "who'd ever wanna be friends with a sociopathic murderer like  _me_ , right? who'd ever wanna hang out with sans the fucking _butcher_ when they can be with sweet ol' papyrus?" He started giggling more, shoulders shaking. "who'd ever want to hug _sans the skeleton_ when they can hug his cute brother instead? who'd ever want to hang out with  _sans_ when his brother is so inviting and kind to everyone all the time?" He was still laughing, but little blue droplets of tears were running down his cheekbones. "who'd want to even _look_ at a weirdo with an axe who's just trying to feed his family, when his brother's an esteemed member of the royal guard?" His voice broke, and he started sobbing and laughing at the same time. "who'd ever love  _sans_ when they c-can love  _papyrus_?" 

  
You... you had no idea how to react. He was still grinning through the tears, single eye focused on you, waiting for you to say something. Waiting for you to tell him he was right, or scream, or do SOMETHING.  
  


You slowly (still shaking) lifted yourself up on your elbows, swallowing your fear and taking quiet breaths to calm yourself. He was frozen, watching, smile falling a bit.

  
With a bit of push and a lot of idiotic bravery born from the knowledge that this would calm him down, you wrapped both your arms around his neck and pressed your head into his shoulder. Your heart was thundering and your mind was screaming at you to flee, and he smelt like blood and regret but... he'd never hurt you before, right? And what cause did he have now? If it calmed him down, it was worth it. You took another shaky breath at being so close to him willingly- it was sending your panic levels through the roof.

  
He shuddered, and a heart-wrenching sob escaped his mouth, arms fastening around you, as if realising that this was real. He lay down onto his side, holding you close, one arm around your middle and the other on the back of your head, weeping feebly into your hair as you held each other. You let yourself breathe.

  
"i ju-st wan-na be lo-ved..." His voice was strangled, and wet with tears. "why w-on't you _love me_!?" He clutched you to his chest like you were the only thing in the world.  
... Is... is that what all the touching had been about? He'd been trying to get you to like him back? All that growling and following and stroking and kissing... the _mark_... they  _hadn't_ been threats?

  
He'd just been doing it because he wanted to be _loved_?  
  


You spoke, very slowly, choosing your words carefully. This guy was damaged. Promising him too much and failing could be dangerous, but... you couldn't leave him like this. Maybe, if he stopped touching you without permission...  
  


Maybe, if he respected your boundaries and decisions...  
  


_Maybe_ , if he was patient...  
  
  
"... I could... try?" 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER  
> NO MORE  
> NADA  
> ZILCH  
> GOODBYE  
> ADIOS  
> NICE KNOWING YOU  
> THIS WAS CORNY AS HELL BUT I ENJOYED WRITING IT SO GO SUCK A YU-GI-OH CARD


	3. Run, bunny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all thought this was dead, didn't you? hehehe. I spotted an old doc that I'd abandoned almost a year ago that had a continuation of this and I thought- fuck it, let's go. So I rewrote the whole new chapter. Who knows, maybe I'll keep adding to this. I've got loads of tiny random ideas piled up that probably should be connected into a chapter if I ever want to separate my ridiculous brain from all of it.
> 
> Seems like this one-time oneshot ended up turning itself into an actual small story. Whoops!

“S-Sans, just, just take a deep breath-” You said, staggering back, holding your arms out in front of you like those tiny, weedy, stick-like appendages could stop him.

 

He looked insane. That was the same face he’d made when he’d carried you back here through the snowy forest, with that bloated eye and brokenly wide smile, and the same axe he was limply dragging behind him, the tip scraping along the floor and dragging tiny sparks.

 

“you were trying to escape.”

 

“I-I wasn’t!” You almost screamed, voice hysterical. He kept coming forward, with that mad face. “Th-the wind blew my paper out onto the snow! I was leaning out the window to get it!”

 

“after everything we did for you.” He couldn’t hear you, he wasn’t listening, his eyelight trained on you, face dark. You choked on a sob- where was Papyrus!? Why wasn’t he home yet!? “after everything that  _ happened _ ... i thought we finally could trust you.”

 

“Y-you _can!”_ You tried to appease him. “I swear, y-”

 

“i thought,”  _ He wasn’t listening. _ It was like you weren’t even speaking. “we were finally  _ getting somewhere _ together.”

 

Fuck. You swallowed, your whole body shaking. He must... feel so betrayed, on a personal level. Especially after you promised to try to love him... and then, he walks in on what looks like you trying to escape.

 

You could feel all your progress with him going out the window as the instinctual, paralysing fear of being the _ prey  _ encased your whole body. He could probably see it, too- you saw the way he inhaled, eyelight travelling over your form and contracting sickeningly, like a twitching organ, getting redder and redder by the second.

 

“Ple-ease Sans!” You sobbed, legs jelly. You knew something terrible was going to happen. Something so, so bad.

 

Your jelly legs slipped underneath you and you fell onto the floor, harshly, a ricochet of pain travelling up your back. You cried out, and then again in fear when Sans crouched to your level, a huge hand landing on your thigh and pinning it against the floor, hard.

 

“LET GO!” You screamed, trying to pull away, hitting at him, scratching at his hand, but nothing seemed to do anything.

 

... He grinned, sitting up on his knees, and lifted his axe a little, staring down at you.

 

... Your blood froze.

 

“humans can live without legs, can’t they?” His grin was manic, deranged, totally detached, but voice so _ casual _ .

 

“... N-no...!” You choked. You couldn’t  _ breathe _ , you could only stare at the sharp blade of the giant axe as he raised it over his head, and his burning eye zeroed in on you from above.

 

_ “you can’t run away if you don’t have legs~!” _

 

You screamed.

 

You brought your hands up over your head and turned away, preparing yourself for the worst pain you’d ever feel in your whole life, still screaming.

 

...

 

...

 

There was a loud clanging sound, which just made you curl in on yourself further, your screaming descending into harrowing whimpering. You’d never been more afraid in your whole _ life. _ Even when Sans’d been chasing you through the woods, you hadn’t been this afraid, because somewhere inside you you’d been convinced he wouldn’t hurt you. 

 

But he was literally going to cut your legs off.

 

...

 

...

 

Wasn’t he?

 

You dared yourself to look, turning a little and moving your arms so you could see between them.

 

...

 

He’d dropped his axe, arm still raised in the air.

 

You’d  _ never _ seen his eyelight so  _ small _ \- only just a bloody pinprick, almost invisible, making his socket look almost as black as the lax, always empty one next to it. He was staring at your curled up form with the most abject horror you’d ever seen on a face. 

 

Like he’d woken up, and realised what he’d done.

 

... He got up, letting go of your leg and staggering back... and then turned, and ran out of the room.

 

...

 

“... SANS!” You shouted, after him, scrambling to your feet. You heard the front door slam loudly as it hit the wall with how hard he threw it open, and then his rushing footsteps, crunching in the snow. “SANS, COME BACK!”

 

You weren’t thinking. You followed him, out the door, mind firing too quickly to process. You scrambled into the fog and it closed in on you on all sides as you ran in his footprints in the dirty drifts, his giant feet having already crushed it into a compact state that made it easier to chase him.

 

But he was so  _ fast _ . He was a hunter, a chaser, a tracker- he knew how to move quickly. You were left behind, stumbling in the cold and fog, kicking up a mess and yelling his name, but it was just thick, dead, encompassing silence surrounding you.

 

You kept stumbling, in his footsteps, desperate to find him. You opened your mouth to call again, and-

 

Tripped. 

 

Your torn shoe stubbed against a hidden rock in a snowdrift and you were sent bowling straight into the white, teeth slamming together on your tongue as you rolled and rolled in the snow, going down (a hill!?), the wind knocked out of you and hair whipping everywhere. There was snow in your mouth, ears, up your nose, in your hair and eyes, going down your shirt, rocks hitting you in the face, arms desperately coming in to give some kind of protection as you kept rolling, thumping and thudding.

 

Eventually,  _ finally _ , your rolling slowed... and stopped.

 

... 

 

You curled in on yourself, whimpering, shivering in a pile of snow. You took huge, deep, painful breaths, stiffly and shakily getting onto your hands and knees as more clumps of snow fell out your hair, trying to regain some of the air that was repeatedly beaten out of you as you took that fall. Your head and lip were throbbing, legs numb, fingers unresponsive.

 

... You blinked your eyes open.

 

Shit. Little spots of red were appearing on the snow under you as you took more breaths- you lifted up a hand to your face, sitting back on your knees, and it came away smeared with crimson. Your face was throbbing because somewhere along your ‘bumpy’ journey, you’d split your lower lip, and little dribbles of blood were dropping out.

 

Glancing around and staggering to your feet, you found yourself...

 

...

 

Totally lost.

 

You had no idea where you were.

 

All around you was thick, cold fog, your tracks were gone, and you couldn’t tell where you’d rolled from. When you got up, you’d moved, and now you didn’t know which way the hill you’d fallen down even was.

 

You’d never been that far outside Sans’s house, save for the time you managed to get out the window- and even then, you vaguely knew where you were going.

 

... And of course, Sans had been looking for you.

 

You had him to protect you.

 

...

 

Suddenly, the blood on your lip and snow seemed that much brighter, and your heartbeat that much louder, the sweat on your brow that much colder and unwashed state that much more potent smelling.

 

You could die.

 

You could die.

 

_ You could die. _

 

Stumbling forward, you started trekking through the thick snow in a growing spiral from where you had landed, feeling the ground around you in the hopes of finding an uphill slope, and thus where you fell from.

 

... Nothing. You were just walking in huge circles, a bloodied hand over your mouth. Cold leaked through your pants and plastered the fabric to you, freezing your skin, and the more you trudged in what you hoped was the direction you came in, the more disorientated you became, and the more heavy your panic. Before long, you turned around and realised you’d  _ lost _ the spiral, and lost where you came from. All around you was just dirty snow and large, charred black trees, looming in the soup-like fog, their gnarled, spindly stretched arms like broken fingertips in the mists.

 

You didn’t even know why you chased Sans! You gritted your teeth together in frustration, both your hands balling into your hair, no doubt smearing blood into it, as anger caught up to you. He... he’d almost cut your leg off! What in the  _ fuck _ possessed you to run after him!? What were you gonna do, hug it out?!

 

I-if a monster found you here, you’d die before anyone could even hear your scream! You took a deep breath, trying to calm your heartbeat. You needed to _ concentrate _ .

 

... Your attention turned to the fact that you had blood smeared on your face and still leaking from your lip. You held your bloodied hand over the stinging split to stem the bleeding, keeping one hand clean... well, now that you had blood on your face  _ and _ hand (and hair), there was no use trying to cover the smell now. You tried to think clearly, still trudging...

 

Since masking your smell was now impossible, you figured it was best to just... stay as quiet as possible. Perhaps, if you were lucky, a monster had scored a kill somewhere that would mask you, or-

 

...

 

You spun around. 

 

A sound. Behind you. In the fog.

 

You froze in place like a deer, hand over your lip, eyes wide and breathing cut short. Heartbeat suddenly picking up, you stared into the grey, damp gloom behind you...

 

...

 

Nothing.

 

You dared yourself to take a breath. Had you even heard anything? You blinked your eyes and grabbed your arms, rubbing them, trying to warm yourself up, still staring. 

 

Had your intense paranoia made you hear things?

 

... Maybe... it was... a bird. There were a few around here- the quick, smart ones that had flown or fallen in through the ice and become trapped, then bred with other birds. They were rare, given how sought after a prize a good roasted bird was, but it was still a possibility.

 

... Then again...

 

... It was a much, much greater possibility that it was something stalking you.

 

Down here, paranoia was your best friend.

 

... You turned and kept walking, through the snow, but now... everything looked like a figure. From the arms of the twisted trees to the smaller ones that sat eerily innocent and still up close, but in the distance seemed much alike to a broad, watching frame.

 

It was so cold, and quiet. Every crunch of snow underfoot was a thundering drum, every breath was a clashing cymbal.

 

You were the only instrument in this silent orchestra of a forest.

 

Everything seemed to be holding it’s breath. Even as you looked up to see if any sky- no,  _ ice _ \- was visible, it was so dead quiet that you shuddered.

 

...

 

You breathed.

 

...

 

You  _ whipped _ around the moment you heard a snap, determined to catch whatever it was that was following you- 

 

_ It leapt out. _

 

A dark shape rushed at you from the fog, tendrils of wispy grey still attached as it slammed into you at full speed before you could even react, immediately knocking the air out of you and forcing you to the ground on our back. You screamed, hands shoving out to protect yourself, and they caught on the face and half-in the jaws of a  _ giant fucking rabbit. _

 

You weren’t sure what was more insane about the situation, as you lay there in the snow, screaming, holding it’s face away as it foamed and pushed, ragged brown teeth gnashing closer and sunken yellow eyes alight with insanity and all-consuming hunger- the fact that you were about to die, or the fact that it was at the hand of this creature. Once, perhaps, it would’ve been a bunny. A human-sized, anthropomorphic bunny, friendly and fluffy, welcoming to strangers in Snowdin.

 

_ This was not that bunny. _

 

It was huge, reminiscent of monstrous wolf save for the visceral, unnatural bow in it’s spine forcing it to walk on all fours despite it’s giant back feet and unsuited, misshapen hands. If it stood up on it’s hind legs it would be at  _ least _ 8ft tall- It’s skin was raw and thin, breath vile, body infected, the whole animal looking sunken and rabid and emaciated, ears torn and plastered back. What was left of the once-soft fur was matted and the whole animal stank like hell itself.

 

You found yourself pitying it, in some remote corner of your panicked, near-death brain.

 

One of your hands was on it’s snout, fingers gripping on tight around the scarred nose as you stared into it’s hysterical eyes with your own human madness. The other was jammed, heel of your wrist first, against the chin, effectively pinning it’s mouth away from you, fingers curled in the jaw between the teeth. Spittle flew everywhere as it shook, furious, trying to get your hands off so it could open it’s mouth and devour you- 

 

But you held fast. Screaming, numb and  _ terrified _ , kicking it in the nightmarishly thin belly, slamming your boot on it’s legs. It snarled viciously and shook again, tossing it’s head, throwing and throwing, it’s eyes zeroing in on the blood smeared on your face and lip-  _ FIGHT! _ You were locked in a frenzied battle- it shoved it’s head forward, suddenly, trying to force you to let go, claws bending in the puffy snow to try and get a hold, and you shoved back, turning your face to the side and squeezing your eyes shut to avoid it’s stank breath- fuck!

 

You throat was raw. Every part of you screamed together-  _ survive survive survive! Fight! _

 

And suddenly, miraculously, your frantically kicking foot caught it in a sensitive, raw wound, and it squealed, recoiling. Acting purely on instinct you drew away the hand that was on it’s snout and  _ punched it right in the fucking nose _ .

 

Squealing again, almost  _ screeching _ , it pulled away, clutching it’s face with it’s gnarled hands, and you scrambled up from the burning cold snow, onto your feet. 

 

_ Survive! _

 

It turned to you with burning animosity and  _ rage _ in it’s shrunken eyes, the snarl ripping from it’s mouth making it’s whole body shake and sending more spittle flying. You held your hands out, standing your ground, prepared to fight again- it’s legs bent and it jumped toward you, ripping through the air, claws outstretched, jaws ope-

 

_ Thud. _

 

Sans was in front of you before you could blink. With no flesh to tear on his body, he had no reason to be scared, and thus his giant hands locked around the front canines, like he was... steering a bull.

 

... The moment the rabbit realised it was  _ him _ , it’s entire disposition changed.

 

It’s ears flattened, it’s eyes widened, whole body momentarily freezing.

 

... Then it started fighting to get away.

 

Seeing something that large and terrifying, larger than even Sans himself, struggle to flee so much with so much hysteria was just... unnatural.

 

Sans, unaffected, wrestled it to the ground by violently wrenching his hands to the side. It hit the snow, squealing. The moment he let go to retrieve his axe it scrambled up and made to leap at you, back legs bending, eyes-

 

It was cut off, mid-leap, by the giant axe.

 

...

 

The blade, larger than the creature’s head itself, slammed into it, pinned it to the ground- dully going through the skull in what was too brutal to be a slice, but too clean to be a blunt hit.

 

_ Crunch. _

 

...

 

It’s shrunken eyes went blank, and in a disgusting, unceremonial spurt of blood, it sifted into a pile of bloody, spittle-flecked dust on the snow.

 

...

 

Sans removed the stained axe from it’s place embedded in the dusty ground.

 

...

 

You fell back onto your ass.

 

He turned to you, silently, face conveying absolutely no emotion whatsoever as his eyelight scanned your shaken, bloody, exhausted form, stopping at your eyes, that were trained on him.

 

You had no energy to run.

 

...

 

The silence between you two was as thick as the fog.

 

...

 

... He took a step closer to you, eyelight watching intensely- like... he was gauging your reaction. When you didn’t scream, or run, or even  _ flinch _ (you probably would’ve but you were too exhausted), he started trudging slowly toward you.

 

Experience had taught you you couldn’t run from Sans, anyway. Right now, as you swallowed, maintaining eye contact, you just hoped the blood wouldn’t send him into... some kind of craze.

 

...

 

He crouched down to your level, large form suddenly so encompassing, his bony, hesitant hand reaching out. He looked like... any sudden movement would startle him out of this silent, watchful state... and, well, you felt the same way. 

 

... The hand barely grazed you cheek, contact cold but soft... and a thumb delicately traced over the split in your lip as his eye rolled down a little to survey it.

 

For the first time since he’d attacked and killed that bunny, his mask broke a little, showing a twitch, just a  _ twitch _ _,_ of anger. 

 

“... it...” He said, staring at the wound, voice barely above a whisper. “... hurt you?”

 

“N-no.” You stammered, cold catching up to you. And... fear. 

 

“... your lip.”

 

“It sp-split from a fall.”

 

His brows drew together. “...how’d you fall?”

 

“T-t-ripped. Rolled d-down a hill.”

 

He noticed your stammer, immediately, even before you did. A knuckle ghosted over your cheek, eyelight finally,  _ finally  _ dilating.

 

“you’re so cold.”

 

“F-figures.”

 

“... think you can walk?”

 

You shook your head, honestly. The adrenaline had worn off- every part of your body was exhausted, strained, awash in the aching aftermath of fighting for your life. You weren’t sure you could even get back up again.

 

... Hoisting his axe over his shoulder to it’s holster on his back, he fastened it, then held out both his arms, the fabric of his hoodie rustling gently.

 

...

 

You looked up at him, confused.

 

“... i’ll carry you.” He said, soft.

 

...

 

You were crazy. You’d pretty much solidified that in your head by now. Whatever the Underground was doing to you, your judgement was skewered so badly that you were actually even considering taking his offer. You were considering taking the hand of the guy who, no less than an hour ago, had you pinned to the floor by the thigh as you screamed and cried.

 

Normal, above-ground you would’ve slapped his arms away and died in the snow instead, preferring anything to the arms of this insane, mercurial, obsessively attached thing, that could snap from a harmless doofus into a psychotic murderer in a pin drop. She would’ve screamed, she would never have stopped fighting to escape Sans and all the citizens of the Underground. 

 

Because she had somewhere else to go to.

 

_ Someone _ else to go to. 

 

You looked deep into his single, giant, bloated eyelight. He blinked and looked away, embarrassed- the same man who’d almost cut your legs of in a blind, heartbroken rage, the same man who’d wrestled an 8ft rabbit monster to the ground with his bare hands and axed the  _ shit  _ out of it...

 

Was the same one in front of you right now. 

 

... It occured to you, as you glanced up to his skull crack and then back at his nervous face, that perhaps... if the two of you had met in another time or place, you... could’ve been together.

 

Could’ve been a normal, happy couple. Loved each other.

 

Judging by the look in his eyelight, he knew that too.

 

There was something so melancholic about knowing that simply because of time and place and whatever trauma he’d been through... you’d never be able to love him the way you knew he wanted you to.

 

_ Needed _ you to.

 

...

 

You crawled over to him and hugged him around the neck.

 

He responded immediately, his whole frame relaxing, hands going down underneath you to hoist you up with your legs around his middle, face on his shoulder. Like... like a baby.

 

It was different to the first time he’d carried you- after ‘saving’ you in the woods when you ran away. Then, he’d carried your limp and helpless form like a prize or trophy, one arm under your knees and the other at your back, bridal style.

 

Now, it was... closer. Protective.

 

Apologetic.

 

...

 

He was warm. 

 

And behind the blood, you could smell... something crisp. Like snowy streams and pines, and a logfire. Comforting.

 

“... you went after me.” He said, soft, deep, carrying you through the fog home. “... why?”

 

“...”

 

It was insane, to be holding onto your almost-murderer like this. A new, ascended level of stupid, never-before reached by humanity. He was crazy, he was broken, he was strong enough to snap you like a toothpick...

 

... But...

 

... He’s all you have. 

 

“... I guess...” Your voice was soft, too, but crackly. You felt him perk up a little. “... You stopped yourself. You were the one who hesitated. You couldn’t actually bring yourself to cut my legs off- to hurt me, even. In the end, the only thing that got hurt was that rabbit thing.”

 

“still almost killed you.”

 

“... Yeah.” You laid your head in the gap between his shoulder and neck bones, eyes heavy.  Who would've thought you'd end up here... excusing his behaviour so you could feel the smallest bit safe somewhere. “But hey. _ I  _ tried to kill _ you  _ once or twice.”

 

“once. with a letter opener.” He chuckled, and you chuckled too, weakly.

 

Somehow, him almost killing/permanently disabling you triggered a chain of events that...

 

... Ironically, led to you two getting that tiniest bit closer.


End file.
